The Forbidden Fruit
by knatie
Summary: Phoebe's daughter is forced to contact the family that her mother has mysteriously kept hidden from her
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! I know that I haven't updated my other story in a LONG LONG time, but I'm kind of having a tough time with it at the moment, so any ideas/help is welcome! In the mean time, I've been working on this little story, so I hope that this will "wet your appetite" for the time being. ...enjoy!**

_Everything happens for a reason_

My mother's voice her words, this statement. It's been looming in the dark and dusty barracks of my mind for days, ever since she disappeared. She wouldn't have left, no, she couldn't have. There's just no possible way.

I let my head rest against the old and varnished oak of her door frame as I've done habitually every morning for the past three days, searching the untouched chaos of her room for anything to help me piece together this unwanted mystery. There's a part of me that hates her for deserting me, for letting herself be taken from me and for leaving me alone in this new and terrifying place. But there's another part of me, one which is much larger and more rational, that knows that something isn't right. I've been feeling this way ever since the day she vanished, without a note or even a call. That just isn't her style.

Throughout my entire thirteen years of existence, she has never done this to me. I've never been parted from her side for this long without some form of communication. _I'll never leave you; you'll always know where I am, I promise. _But I don't know where you are mom, and I'm frightened, actually, terrified of this new country. I'm lost without you.

I silently leave my post at the entrance of her room and float quietly towards her bed. Without a sound, I sit down and tenderly pick up a stray pillow and breathe in the scent of her perfume that has continued to linger within the fabric. I hug the pillow in close to my body as I let my eyes drift around her room. Nothing seems out of place as far as I can tell. My mother has never been immaculately neat, but apart from the small pile of clothes that had gathered in the corner, there wasn't anything that was out of the ordinary. No sign of a struggle, so she mustn't have put up much of a fight.

Out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly caught a glimpse of something that I hadn't noticed before. My hand reached for the two crinkled and aged photographs that had carelessly been tossed on to her bedside table. I had seen the pictures before and I had questioned her about them time and time again. But my mother has always been mysterious about her past and I respected that. She had simply told me that they were pictures of her family. I recognized my mother in the one picture but didn't know who the other two women were – sisters, I'm guessing because they looked so similar. I turned it over and saw that there was writing on the back in a hand that I couldn't recognize: 'Piper 23, Prudence 25, and Phoebe 20. Summer of '96.' The other picture contained a woman who was different than the others. I looked on the back for an inscription but there was none. Although my mother rarely spoke about these women, I knew that they must have meant a lot to her for she had never been anywhere without these photographs and I knew that something had to have been very wrong for her to leave the house without them.

I feel a knot begin to take shape inside of my stomach as my fear begins to escalate. She is in trouble, I can feel it, and yet I can't help her. We've only been living here for the last couple of weeks – I hadn't even been registered in a school yet. The only person that I actually know is the old widow who lives across the street, although considering the situation that has currently found itself within my unfortunate reality; I seriously doubt she would be able to offer any assistance. I fear that I'm far beyond the help of mortals.

I suddenly remember an old phone number that I've seen within my mother's address book and I know what I have to do. I open a few drawers within her vanity and finally come across its familiar leather-bound cover. My fingers quickly flip through the pages until they reach the letter H, and finally scan down to the second to last entry, 'The Manor, 1329 Prescott St., San Francisco CA.' My mother and I are currently living in Los Angeles, and during our long plane ride to California, I recall her telling me how she had grown up in San Francisco. This must be her childhood home. I continue to read the entry and notice the bolded words underneath reading "USE ONLY IN EMERGENCY"

"Well mom," I whisper softly to myself. "I hope that this qualifies as an emergency."

I pick up her cell phone hesitantly and carefully punch in each of the numbers. My heart begins to pound as I bring the tiny phone up to my ear and hear the monotonous ringing. In my other hand, I hold the picture of my mother and her assumed sisters and I decide to speak with Piper, for she appears to look the most understanding. The phone continues to ring in my ear and just as I'm about to hang up, a male voice sounding out of breath questions, "hello?"

I pause for a moment, unable to speak or even to breathe.

"Hello?" the voice questions again.

"Um... hi," I start hesitantly, embarrassed by the way my voice is audibly shaking. _God P, wise up a bit you sound like a damned fool._

"Can I help you?" sounds the voice.

"Yeah," I answer meagerly, my voice still shaking. "Is... um... May I speak with... Piper Halliwell... please?"

"Yeah sure, just give me a minute," he responds.

He leaves the phone, and I immediately begin to doubt the decision that I've made. My mother's kept this part of her life so carefully guarded and I'm afraid that I'm going to ruin the life that she's built for both of us. But she's in trouble and this is the only way that I know can help her –

"Hello?" questions a visibly female voice, interrupting all of my thoughts and doubts.

"Is this Piper Halliwell?" I question stupidly, my heart racing within my chest.

"The one and only," she replies, her voice laced with sarcasm. _Ha! If only she knew._

"I need your help," I blurt out, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Come again?" she questions.

"I need your help," I repeat slowly and more audibly.

There's a slight pause on the other line and I'm afraid that she's going to hang up and abandon me during my time of need. _Come on, your my only hope._

"Who are you?" she sounds hesitant and unsure.

"I'm your niece," I confirm confidently.

"Ha!" I hear her laugh. "Nice try, but I don't have a niece – or any nephews for that matter, so don't try that one on me either."

"Wait! Don't hang up!" I yell desperately. "You are Piper Halliwell, are you not?"

"Yes! I've already told you that," she replies with obvious annoyance.

"Please," I respond quietly, feeling my voice crack and a lump rise up into my throat. "Please, I need your help."

The line is silent again and as I blink, a single tear escapes from my eye. I hear her sigh, and she replies simply with a quiet "Ok."

During our awkward phone conversation, Piper had agreed to come as soon as she could so we could discuss what sort of trouble I was in. I sat now within the quiet kitchen of our current house, sketching at the table in a failing attempt to settle my nerves. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a bright light that flashes within the front room. Curiously, I creep noiselessly into a shadowed corner, away from the view of my visitors.

"Do you want me to stay?" asked a woman who I recognize from the second photograph, which I now hold tightly within my hands.

"No, Paige," the other woman who I recognize immediately as Piper responded. "I'm not in any danger; I just need to talk with the person who lives here."

"Whatever you say. You know what to do when you want to come home. Good luck!" Paige replies and just as quickly as she came, she disappears within a swirl of blue lights.

I'm not ready to face her yet, to come out of the corner that keeps me hidden from her view. She is the forbidden fruit that cannot be picked from my mother's secret garden. And yet, here she is, standing right in front of me. Temptation slithers through my mind, consuming my every thought like a disease. Part of me yearns to touch or to hold her, to reassure myself that she's standing there and not just a figment of my delusional imagination. It's all I can do to stop myself from running into her arms like a frightened child, to praise her as my saviour, or to simply break down and cry. I carefully eye her up and down and slowly take in each of her features. I compare them to my mother: About the same height, slightly fuller build, tiny scar above eyebrow, similar but uniquely distinguishable face, and the hair. Unable to turn my gaze elsewhere, for the moment I'm entranced with the way it moves and shimmers in the light as she unsurely paces within the front room. I've never seen anything like it; perfectly straight and gleaming within the fading afternoon sunlight. Undeniably darker than mine and my mother's, it glows with perfection and reminds me of the paintings that I've seen of the great goddess Athena, queen of the ancient Greek immortal world. My hands itch to sketch, to paint, to sculpt – anything to relieve my mind of her overwhelming beauty.

Momentarily hypnotized by my fascination, I silently begin to inch out of the shadow that had kept me cloaked from her sight and I feel myself drifting towards her, as if in a dream. An old floorboard creaked suddenly underneath my feet, quickly snapping me back into reality. I watch as her head whips around and her eyes catch my frightened stare before I can retreat back into the safety of my darkened corner. My heart leaps into my throat. I am caught. There she is, no more than a meter away. I can practically touch her; the forbidden apple, looming tantalizingly in front of me, the snake in my mind whispering _'just one little bite won't hurt.'_

**Reviews are always welcome!**

**PEACE**


	2. Chapter 2

**I know, I know... long time no post – my bad. But here it is, and I hope to have another chapter up shortly, but I can't make any promises. Thanks to all of my lovely reviewers though, you guys are awesome and you give me so much motivation to continue. Keep it up!! **

**Enjoy...**

I feel paralyzed. I'm afraid to move, to speak, to even breathe or turn my gaze away from her own. Her gaze... it's not a gaze, but rather a cold, hard, contemptuous glare. I can even feel myself shrinking under her disproving eyes, feeling like a child whose been caught red-handed for a misdeed. _But I've done nothing wrong_. Yet her eyes continue to bore into my own with disgust. I have never been able to look into anybody's eyes before, not like this. Even now, as I am unable to look anywhere else, I feel intimidated and nauseously uncomfortable. _Why did I choose her?_ The question repeats itself over and over again in my mind. In my defense, the only photograph that I had of the three women was approximately twenty years out of date. I guess people change; for the better and for the worse. But what had made this seemingly timid and understanding person that I had seen in the picture transform into this hard and angry woman who's standing in front of me? A question, unfortunately, that I can't answer.

As my thoughts drift elsewhere, I allow my eyes to refocus on the woman who's facing me, and much to my relief, I find that her vicious eyes have left my own in order to explore the rest of my figure. This task, however, proves to be just as uncomfortable and degrading as the fixed stare that we had shared between ourselves just moments before. I feel like a caged animal – no worse, an inmate. I can almost hear the detective asking, "Ms. Halliwell, do you see the suspect, or shall we bring out another line?" Piper, of course, doesn't respond, and instead I watch as her eyes continue to blaze a path across my smaller body. I wonder what she's thinking about. What kind of notes is she taking? Is she comparing me to my mother as I did to her?

Drifting back into reality, I refocus my eyes to find that hers have again, reconnected with my own. Unlike before, however, they are not eyes filled with contempt and hatred, but rather recognition and perhaps even a hint of sorrow. Slightly glazed over in a pink tinge, her eyes appear to be softer in expression, not at all intimidating as before. I sneak a quick glance at the rest of her face to find a disturbingly contrasting difference. Her clenched jaw and pursed lips, combined with her emotional eyes, give away the fight that is obviously occurring within her mind. Part of her wants to hate me, to forget that we ever met; but battling painfully to the surface is a feeling of despair – proof of her recognition of me as my mother's daughter. I did not inherit any of my mother's Wiccan gifts, but she did teach me how to read a person's body language without needing her power of empathy. Piper's face is like an open book, and deciphering her emotions are just as easy as piecing together words in order to form a sentence. I just hope that her feeling of sorrow and despair can hold out long enough to win her internal battle.

"You look just like her," a steely and monotonous voice escapes from her lips, catching me completely off guard.

I swallow hard and my heart skips a beat as I stare back at her, my own mind now wrestling with its own internal battle. I'm afraid to respond, afraid of allowing her to enter my life. I regret contacting her – Mom's fine; I'm probably overreacting about the whole situation. What would she do if she knew that I had contacted Piper? I don't have an answer. This is the only secret that she's ever kept hidden from me – her family, her past. She must have had a good reason for concealing their existence. _But she's not here_. Precisely. Mom's not here and this mysterious woman from her past is my only chance at finding her. _Sorry mom_...

"Thank you," I fumble nervously for a response, quickly feeling the heat rise into my cheeks as the accented words slur lazily off of my tongue.

A quick flinch in her neck informs me that my words did not go unnoticed, but strangely she chooses not to question the accent. Instead, I notice a cloud of anger invade her softened eyes as she turns away from me and begins to pace around the room. I realize that I've officially lost her pity vote, but that doesn't mean that I've lost the battle... yet.

I foolishly remain glued to the same spot as I watch her silently explore the untidy room, her leather clad arms crossed protectively over her chest. In the two weeks that I've lived in this house, my mother and I haven't used this room at all, choosing instead to live either within the kitchen or in our bedrooms. Due to the major renovations that the old house is undergoing, we haven't even had access to the bathroom. It isn't that this particular room is dirty, but just scattered with the evidence of the renovators. The remaining furniture is currently protected by white bed sheets and blankets cover the new hardwood floors from the splattering of paint. I watch as Piper makes her way over to the small pile of boxes that have collected in the far corner of the room, remnants of the move. She reaches into one of the top cartons, and unravels tissue paper from a picture frame, revealing a photograph of my mother looking lovingly at me as an infant – one of her favourites.

"Where the hell is she?" Piper snaps suddenly while tossing the picture carelessly back into the box.

I jump in surprise at the ruthless sound of her voice, fear slowly enveloping my body as she creeps closer in my direction.

"Who?" I sputter stupidly. _God P, you're such an idiot_.

"Don't give me that, you know exactly who I'm talking about. Now where is she?" she says through gritted teeth, her voice sounding increasingly more venomous.

I slowly take in a deep breath in an attempt to soothe my damaged nerves, before responding shakily, "she's not here."

"What?" she questions in disbelief. "No. No no no. Of course she's here – she has to be here! This is just – you're just one of her ploys to get me to see her. And I almost didn't come. It's been too long... way, way, way too long."

She finally pauses, and I can only stare skeptically at her. I'm almost frightened. Her tone of voice has completely changed and she's now almost on the verge of tears. _Oh shit, _I think I'm witnessing a complete and utter mental breakdown of a woman... _I am way too young for this, what am I going to do?_

As if on cue, Piper looks up at the ceiling, shaking her fist before continuing her rant, "It's been fifteen years, Phoebe, fifteen fucking years. I know you're here! Just get your ass down here so I can see you, damn it!"

_She's crazy. I've let a crazy person into my house. _

"Piper..." I start nervously hoping to get through to her. Before I can continue, however, she looks over at me and says, "She's not here, is she?"

I shake my head silently in response.

"Then why did you call me?" she asks softly.

"I can't find her," I confirm shakily, tears threatening to spill from my own eyes at any minute. "It's like she just --"

"Disappeared?" Piper finishes as I nod my head in agreement. "Ha. She's good at doing that. Let me guess, she probably took off in the middle of the night, and when morning came, there was no Phoebe to be had – I should know, she's done it to me twice. Let me give you some advice, kid. Learn to live without her, 'cause god only knows how long she'll be gone this time."

"But she's my mother," I say as I stare at the woman before me in horror. "And she wouldn't take off on me like that... she promised."

"Yeah, well promises were meant to be broken," Piper responds dishearteningly, shifting her gaze to the ground. "At one time I thought she'd never leave me. She was my best friend, my sister. Obviously she didn't have a problem on turning her back on me and the rest of her family in order to pursue her own selfish life."

"My mother is not selfish!" I yell, tears streaming freely down my face now. "And she didn't leave me like she left you. I... I think that she was taken."

"Prove it" Piper says coldly.

"Look at these," I say as I give her the photographs that I have been holding. "They're of you and, what I'm assuming to be, the rest of your family. Even though she supposedly left you, she still hasn't stopped caring – she never leaves the house without these pictures. Now, I'm begging you, can you please help me find her?"

I silently wipe my dampened cheeks with the back of my hand as I wait for a response. I never cry, and to do so in front of a stranger is overly embarrassing. I just hope that she finally takes pity on me and decides to help. She is her sister after all, no matter how estranged they are.

"Ok," she says quietly. "But you're coming home with me."

**Sorry for the long wait guys and gals, but hopefully it was worth it! Tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello my lovely readers, aren't y'all impressed with my speedy update? 'Cause I sure am!! Don't get used to it though, 'cause I can't promise that the next chapter will be up this quick – this was a complete fluke. I had an idea and it only took me like an hour to write this... so if it's not very good: TELL ME and I'll rewrite it. **

**Thanks a bundle to the few who reviewed – you guys hold a special place in my heart lol... but actually.**

**Enjoy!**

_Wow, now that was one hell of a trip!_

I feel slightly lightheaded and my body's still tingling in affect from my very first magical journey – well, I can't say that this was my first; I've shimmered before, but this... now this was different. It felt so right, so good. Actually, it reminds me of how I felt years ago when I was drugged on laughing gas while at the dentist – Oh my God... am I high? My happiness disappears suddenly as a feeling of guilt overwhelms my body, inevitably increasing my heart beat. _Mom's gonna kill me when she finds out._ But I can't be high – it was magical. You can't get high off of magic... or can you? I guess it's a good thing that mom's not here to tap into how I'm feeling, although the other two people in the room are staring so intently at me that it's as if they know exactly how I feel. _Of course they're staring at me._ And it's not because they think that I'm high or know how I'm feeling. It's because I'm the mysterious new damsel in distress that's landed in their life.

I don't know how long I've been off within my own little world daydreaming, but it's unusual that neither of them has spoken yet. From Piper's intense outburst at the house in L.A., I expected to be interrogated immediately upon arriving at our destination. Apparently they're not big on talking, but they've got the staring thing down pat. I'm the one who decides to finally break the ice, which is uncharacteristically bold of me, and ask, "What's it called again, that swirly blue teleporting thing we just did? I've never seen it before, let alone experienced it."

"It's called orbing," answers the woman who I know is called Paige, even though we haven't been formally introduced.

In fact, Piper, in the half an hour or so that I had spent conversing with her, hadn't even bothered to ask my name. Although curious, I'm not too bothered by the fact. Part of me is longing to find out about my long lost family, as it has for years. But this visit constitutes purely as business and not an ounce of pleasure. I can't afford to get to know these women on a personal level. I just want to find mom and get out of here. And judging by Piper's neglecting to even ask for my name, I'm pretty sure that's all she wants me to do.

"You've never orbed before?" Paige continues slowly while staring at me quizzically.

Under her gaze I feel small and vulnerable, although, her eyes are missing the sense of familiarity and hate which were unbearable when Piper's eyes had been connected with my own.

"I don't understand. You are a witch, aren't you? Don't you have a white-lighter?" Paige asks just as unsurely, while continuing to watch me inquisitively.

"A white-who?" I stumble in response as my face inevitably contorts in confusion.

My reaction apparently ignites a spark of recognition within her, which is only noticeable in the subtle brightness that quickly races through her eyes.

"You look very familiar," Paige speaks softly, confirming my suspicions of her recognition of me, even if she is unable to place precisely who I am. "Who are you?"

"Paige, I think that you should go into the kitchen, I'll meet you there in a minute," Piper says quietly before I can respond to her.

As Paige exits the room, I notice that Piper's glare remains fixated on me as she is unable to even look at her sister. I can almost feel the pain that her eyes radiate, and I can't help but feel guilty for I am partially to blame for her heartbreak and for Paige's as well, when she finds out who I am.

"Um... I need you to stay here... we'll probably be a while," Piper's voice sounds faint and unsure, reflective no doubt, of the overwhelming task that she is about to face.

I nod silently and watch as she slowly makes her way into the kitchen. When I'm positive that she is safely out of sight, I sigh quietly to myself before sinking into one of the oversized chairs that dominate the room. Looking around, I find that this so-called "manor" is not as foreboding as its title makes it out to be. Actually, the house is quite elegant and warm, filled with antiques and family photos mainly of Piper and two young boys.

I can't help but feel envious of the manor's occupants. This house embraces every aspect of what a home should be – something that I've never experienced. Besides the house that I had briefly shared with my mother for the past two weeks, I have never lived in a house as inviting as this one. My mother and I have lived in a countless number of rented cottages and flats, whose walls remained white and bare during our short stays. Mom has never made a substantial amount of money, enough to allow us to live comfortably of course, but nothing was ever budgeted into home improvements. We more or less stumbled upon our current dwelling during our flight to San Francisco. Mom ran into an old friend from high school, who had become a professional "house-flipper," who had insisted that we stay in one of his current projects, free of charge, until we found some place more permanent. Even though the house is magnificent in both size and structure, it's still missing the warmth and homeliness that's emphasized throughout the manor.

I hear the front door creak open, which silently rips me from my current thoughts, followed by the unmistakable clicking of high-heels walking across the wooden floors.

"Piper!" I hear a young, female voice call out.

"Just a minute, Billie," Piper responds from the kitchen.

"Oh my God, you would _not_ believe the day I've had," Billie continues, oblivious to Piper's current engagement as her steps near the room in which I'm presently occupying. "First of all, Al - - whoa! You're not Piper..."

Her tall frame fills the large entrance of the room as she stares at me curiously, hands placed firmly on her hips. I'm not in the mood to meet any more people, especially more Halliwell's. Although she marched into the house as if she owned the place, she doesn't look like a Halliwell. Contrasting the dark hair which is seems to be a family trait, are her fair locks. I suppose that her blonde look could easily come from the contents of a box... but it isn't just her hair colour that makes me question her heritage. Standing upright, she is at least four or five inches taller than my 5'2", add to that her name which obviously doesn't start with a "P" – no, she's definitely not a Halliwell. She's safe to speak to.

"No, I'm not Piper," I say quietly, inviting her to converse with me.

"Clearly," she states bluntly before creeping closer toward me, her arms crossed protectively across her chest. "But you look so familiar... almost like... oh never mind."

"Almost like who?" I ask slowly, although I'm pretty sure that I know who, and I'm not looking forward to the endless stream of unanswerable questions that this woman will soon be asking.

"Oh, just someone that I used to know," she says while waving her hand away from her body, a silent gesture for me to forget about her previous comment.

Ignoring her unspoken plea, I respond quickly, "Probably because I'm her daughter."

"What?!" Billie gasps as her eyes widen in surprise. "No... you can't be – I mean, there's no doubt that you look like her... but you definitely don't sound like her. Sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude, but I can't even place your accent – if that's even what it is, I might just be hearing things. Where are you from?"

_Oh boy. So now the questions start getting personal... why can't she be like Piper?_

"I speak Spanish, if that helps to explain my accent at all – it should be pretty faint, it only really becomes audible when I'm nervous," I begin cautiously. "And as for where I'm from... well, I was born in Spain, but mom and I have lived in so many different places that I can't really say that I'm 'from' anywhere. We're just your average, run of the mill, globe trotters."

After a slight pause, Billie's eyes soften as she responds, "Oh my God, you are her daughter," while pulling me up off of the chair and enveloping me in a surprising hug.

I stand awkwardly as she pulls out of the embrace, keeping me at an arm's distance away and her hands grip my shoulders tightly as she continues rapidly, "I can't believe it – after all of these years, she's finally back – where is she? Oh probably in the kitchen, which is why Piper was all pissy when I came in. And you... the daughter that she foresaw so long ago... she must be so happy. I'm so happy! Just look at you... you're just like her. Oh, there's so many things to say, so many questions to ask... what's your name? Where have you both been for all of these years? And – ooh! What did you do to your arm? Oh God, I think I'm talking too fast – am I talking too fast?"

My look of bewilderment apparently did all the communicating for me as she takes a step back, extends her arm and begins again, this time at a much slower rate, "Let's start over. I'm Billie... and does Phoebe's daughter have a name?"

_Oh shit._

"Uhh, of course I have a name... it's, it's Pea," I lie very unconvincingly.

"Pee?" she questions half in disbelief, half in disgust.

"Yeah – like the vegetable," I suggest, trying harder to convince myself than Billie.

"Uh huh..." she says, a look of confusion evident within her face.

_Pea? I said my name is Pea? I can't tell her my real name, but surely I could have come up with something better than Pea! She's never going to believe this..._

"Hey – if **Gwyneth **can call her kid Apple, what's wrong with mom calling me Pea?" I ask, as she considers the probability over. "I think I got off easy on this one." 

"Hmm, well it doesn't sound like something Phoebe would name her kid," Billie starts, as a feeling of dread runs through my body. "But hey, it's unique and it sticks with tradition."

_She bought it! I can't believe it!_

"You have her smile," her tender voice catches me off guard, immediately ending the "happy dance" that was going on inside of my head.

"Thank you," I reply simply, regarding the comment as a compliment as I always do when people point out the similarities that my mother and I share.

Billie smiles slightly before asking in a more casual voice, "So, what happened to your arm?"

"Oh, I broke my wrist," I explain as I glance briefly at my left arm which is covered in a plaster cast.

"Yeah, I can see that, but how - - wow! Did you do all of that?" she asks while looking at the drawings that currently covers the once white material.

I nod my head before responding, "It was a long flight here – I got bored."

"Yeah, but this... this is really good, you're very talented," she declares while analyzing the sketches closely.

Before I can thank her, however, Piper's voice is heard from the kitchen calling, "Billie, can you come in here for a moment?"

"Yeah sure!" she yells in reply after dropping my injured arm, and looking up at me happily. "I guess now it's my turn to be officially re-introduced to your mom. Wish me luck!"

I wait until she leaves the room before I whisper quietly to myself, "Too bad she's not there."

**So whaddya think? Reviews both good and bad are always appreciated, so don't hesitate!**

**Until next time:**

**Ciao!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I know it's been forever and a half since I last updated, but don't hate. I get bogged down with school and the like, and time just flies by. Thank you to my reviewers, you guys are amazing, I can't cease to tell you!! Anyway, enjoy...**

Despite the steady hum of muffled voices that crept silently into the room, I felt myself become oblivious to the noises around me as all my senses shut down simultaneously. A nervous silence interrupted my thoughts preventing me from thinking straight or even at all. Instead, I could feel anticipation beat in tune with my heart, matching its unsteady pulse as the blood raced speedily through my veins. It took a moment before my unconscious state erupted into a plague of disconnected thoughts: _Where's mom. Did I do the right thing? Why do they hate her? Do they hate her? Where's mom._ _Do they hate me? Will they like me? Where's mom, where's mom, where's mom._ I shook my head in frustration. What's done is done. It's not as if I can change anything now anyway.

Unable to tolerate the cramped silence any longer, I slowly drifted out of the room, unknowingly migrating toward the growing sound of their voices. I paused briefly at the bottom of the stairs as their conversation became so distinctly audible that I could not block it from my mind any longer. Straining my ears, I only caught a few words before I was consumed by my guilty, eavesdropping conscience. I could tell, however, by their grim, monotonous drone, that my arrival was anything but a joyous occasion.

I started slowly up the stairs, forcing my curious ears away from their private conversation. Skipping right over the second floor, my ascent continued until I found myself face to face with the attic door. Strangely, the door felt almost weightless beneath my light touch as it timidly creaked open, my hand hardly brushing against its solid surface. 'Must be a draft... or loose hinges..." I thought to myself, trying to shake off the cool shiver that tingled up my spine as I stepped into the room. Despite the cool and almost foreboding shiver, I immediately felt at home.

The room maintains the same sense of warmth and homeliness that's emphasized throughout the manor's ground floor. Differently, however, is its feel. Unlike typical houses where the kitchen is described as the hub of family life, I immediately discovered that the Halliwell's attic was the heart of this home. I casually surveyed the room from the doorway, noting the usual collection of old furniture and boxes of baby clothes mixed tidily among bookshelves of potions, weapons and books. I paid little attention to their enviable assortment of occult items as a distinct glimmer of light shone through the front window, directing my gaze to the pedestal that rested near the back of the room. As if in a trance, I found myself walking over to the stand, curious of the massive book that it holds. Brushing my fingers lightly over its textured surface, I immediately felt empowered – almost invincible, as if I was being protected by someone or some sort of force.

"Book of Shadows," I murmured aloud as I opened the heavy cover to the first aged page.

As I flipped through the pages with excitement I discovered a whole world of new demons and ancient spells that I never knew existed – and many of which would have come in handy during most of the demonic attacks that I bared witness to over the years. It looked like the book had been in the family for generations, as its yellowed pages suggested. Why didn't mom start one of her own? I can't help but wonder how we ever survived without a resource like this. _A lot of close calls_, a voice within me remembers; too many.

"Demon!" a sharp, male voice suddenly yells from the attic's entrance, tearing me from my thoughts while scaring the life out of me simultaneously.

In an immediate panic, I whipped my head around trying to locate the evil within the room. Before I'm even able to look behind myself, however, I feel a force violently lifting me from my feet before hurling my unprepared body through the air and into one of the bookshelves behind where I stood.

"Owe," I moan as I emerge slowly from the pile of books and broken potion vials, gingerly touching my head which now throbs in pain.

"Quiet Demon!" the voice grunts threateningly. "Say one more word and I'll hand you a one way ticket to hell."

_Ugh... you've got to be kidding me._

Bringing my hand away from my forehead, I finally make eye contact with my attacker, who is surprisingly not much older than I am. In disbelief I stare at him, quickly taking in his tall and slender build, dark hair, green eyes, before angrily erupting into a brutal confrontation, "Who are you? Harry Potter? I hate to break it to you, but I'm not Voldemort, and killing me will not save the world – in fact, I think you might lose brownie points for vanquishing an innocent."

Obviously taken aback, I watch as he stares at me unblinkingly, in shock. And before either of us can say anything, the sound of clapping emerges from the doorway, serving to turn both of our heads toward the newcomer.

In contrast to the serious look of determination that characterizes my attacker's face, the other boy appears to be more playful as a small smile tugs jokingly at his lips while he strides toward us.

"Ah, little brother," he begins teasingly, looking the younger boy in the eye. "I thought I warned you about the story of the boy who cried wolf."

I watch as the younger boy rolls his eyes before responding "aren't you supposed to be in L.A.?"

"What, not happy to see me?" he answers in mock disappointment before continuing. "Mom called me here for a meeting. She wants us to meet our cousin."

"Oh, did Aunt Paige get knocked up or something?" he asks with a smile.

The older boy laughs for a minute before responding, "Sometimes I wonder about you, Chris. I think you were dropped on your head one too many times as a baby. No, Aunt Paige is not pregnant. I'm talking about our cousin, who clearly is not a demon, as we probably would have been dead by now if she was."

Chris veers his unsteady gaze to connect with mine. Still unimpressed with my surprise attack, I stare back with anger which is penetrating through my aching body. Without an attempt of even acknowledging my existence - or pain for that matter, he looks back at his brother and starts, "Cousin? But I thought - -"

"I know," he interrupts. "Next time don't assume."

"Since when do we have a cousin?" Chris asks blatantly, ignoring his brother's advice.

"She's Phoebe's." the answer flows simply off of his tongue.

"Oh," he murmurs quietly and I notice the shroud of darkness that quickly moves to cover his face as he turns his head in the other direction.

Before I can question his obvious facial change, the blonde brother reaches his hand toward me. Grateful to finally be acknowledged, I take his hand and as he helps me to my feet, apologizes: "You'll have to excuse my brother. We've been on edge over the past few weeks, and he's been a little quick to the punch."

"So I take it I'm not the first one?" I ask as I brush the debris from my jean-clad legs.

Chuckling, he replies, "Nope! Not by a long shot. I'm Wyatt, by the way – Piper's son. I think I already mentioned my brother's name, Chris."

Shaking Wyatt's hand, I glance over at Chris who manages a weak wave of acknowledgement before quietly mumbling, "Listen Wy, I've got to run. I'm late for practice. It was nice to meet you..."

"Pea," I offer.

"Pea," he repeats before looking up at me in disbelief and questioning. "Pee?"

Rolling my eyes slightly I explain, "Like the vegetable."

"Oh," is his only response before he quickly exits the room.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask Wyatt hesitantly after Chris is safely out of ear shot.

"It's not you," he explains gently. "Our family just kind of holds a grudge against your mom."

"So I've noticed," I say disappointedly, all illusions of finally becoming part of a happy family shattered. "Why is that?"

"Oh you better sit down for this one," he smiles slightly, the only relative who has not greeted my presence with sheer hatred. "It's a long, long story."

**I know this doesn't make up for all those months that I neglected to post another chapter, but hey, this has gotta be better than nothing! **

**Tell me whatcha think.**


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